time

there is nothing to stop time and life from moving on.

certainly not grief.

life just keeps going.

bills must be paid.

chores must be done.

you just do it while you hurt.

the thing now is to find the smiles,

the tiny things that make the passing of time,

the moving away from the moment of his death,

the realization that my life is forever changed,

those things that make me okay ~ for the time being.

she could be any young mother holding her baby looking out the window.

it could be from any time period.

i took it today while i was over visiting her and my grandson.

she is my baby.  my oldest child.

all grown up.

time passed.

i turned around and she grew up.

she married.

she is now a mother.

the little girl with the long, tangled hair who

loved to wear tutus over her jeans and sang so loudly to our dog

had left me for a time as she did all the adult things of college, work, getting married.
she was as gone as if she walked into the forest to never come back.

but i see her again

as she discovers the magic of being young again.

she sings to her son.

she holds him and cuddles him.

she talks to him about ducks and flowers and ladybugs.

 she sings the songs i used to sing to her and her brother.

she carries him around and doesn't put him down for a nap,

but lets him nap on her,

as i used to do her and her brother.

she says she remembers how i was when she was little

and she wants to do the same thing for her son.

i got teary.

we hugged and she asked me to teach her the words to a song she remembers the tune to but not the words.

so i taught it to her today.

that's what she was singing when i took the photo of them.

time will pass.

the sun will rise and it will set

all without him here.

but he is here with me.

i don't feel him near as in a presence.

i simply acknowledge to my quiet life that i love him.

and always will.

i work a lot and very hard.

but when i am home, i read, sew, and do it all while sitting with my lovely, furry roommates.

this is how we roll.

comfy on the sofa.

together.

snuggle buddies.

 but again i can see the passing of time; that cold, careless, unsympathetic torturer of relationships.

my gentle Scootie Wootums is getting older.  i can see his soft little face getting whiter.

he can't leap like he used to.

he likes to lay in the sunshine so that the warmth seeps into his bones.

 i understand that kind of pain.

i hurt deep in my back.

i hurt deep in my arms, my hands, and my knees are failing.

but i cannot stop working.

i have to provide for myself.

my sweet Carmen Sophia is getting older as well.  she and Scootie are litter mates.

they have only been separated once.

they were sold to different homes as puppies and grieved for each other.

they were returned to the breeder because they refused to eat.

once together again, they were happy.

i was called because i was on the list as a rescuer of dogs, given mostly senior dogs who were abandoned due to age.

so i took them in as puppies and have had the privilege of being in their lives all their lives.

and now, they are both older than i am.

time marches on and it's crushing me to see them get old.

i know what's coming.

so i take pictures.

i have so many pictures over our years together.

i love these dogs like i've loved no other that i have had in my life.

and i have deeply loved all my dogs.

i do not know how i will handle their passing.

but i will have to find a way.

time is not an enemy.  it simply is.

i try every day to appreciate the few who remain in my life.

i adore my Carmen Sophia and Scootie Wootums.

and i adore my daughter, my son, and my grandson.

time will pass and i will grow old.

but i have them.

and they make time worthwhile.

i dream in color

this is me at 4 months out.  soft little face.  yet so scared. 

 

this is me 3 and a half years out.

see that furry face?  little bit more careworn.

see those eyes?  "so much pain my dazzled eyes refused to see."

reality hits me ~ again and again and again.........

it's hard doing this sort of alone.  i'm not alone alone.  i have my two children.  i do hold close to my broken spirit every comment written here.  but i am still thinking it might be a good idea to try again to find someone to talk to.  you know, try again for a grief counselor.  but what would she say to me?

"girl, it's been 3 years and you're just now getting around to finding some help with this?"

i'd have to say, "ma'am, it's bee 3 plus years of searching for someone who will effing listen to me and not bleed me dry of something i have, something i can do.  to simply do the job of a grief counselor and not let me down.  please, just listen to me.

i don't know if i'll ever have that.  looking into the money aspect of it.

i seem to whine a lot, but this blog is my only outlet to whine. otherwise i keep it inside.  i have to do the "primal scream" thing to get some of it out.  here, i can.  i'm so closed off from the world.  i do not reveal anything to anyone who knows me simply because they are not friends.  the only people i know are the people i work with.

i try to help myself.  i look to my dogs for the way to enjoy life.  

 like Scootie Wootums enjoying sniffing all the sniffs that cram into his nose while his head is stuck out the window. 

 i dream/create fantasies of a different life.  my happy place.  my serene calm place where i am not here.  i am somewhere else, with him, my children, all together truly living each day and reveling in all that the world has.

 i remember all the places i did live where i felt home.  i developed an attachment to a place and will never forget living there.  i can go there in my mind and breathe.

 i am so much more fragile than i ever was.  is it age?  or grief?  is it feeling so vulnerable, or so adrift?  and yet, i feel surges of strength when i am threatened.

"how dare you try and hurt me?"  "how dare you try and take what little i have left?"

i dream in color.  my things are old and solid and loyal and enduring.

i dream in color.   i value and respect the things that last like love and memories.

i dream in color.  i do not seek more material possessions but only add things like books {words}, moments of calmness, and the continued search for peace in this life.

i may see things in black and white; facing the reality that life shoves down my throat day-after-day,

but i dream in color.

obituary

last summer i met a woman at the Church i attend. she was sitting behind me and when we made the sign of peace, i turned to extend my hand. she shook mine with both of hers. after Mass, she and i walked out together. we stood together for a moment talking and then she said, "you're a widow. so am i, 21 years."

i said, "yes, i am, 2 years 5 months."

her smile was soft. she reached out for my hand and squeezed it. "you're so early into it. would you like to go down the street to {a little restaurant} for some breakfast?"

i have been very lonely and was happy with the idea. this started a Sunday morning routine that i looked forward to all these many weeks. i told her i was 52. she told me her age: 72. she talked to me, answering questions, sharing her story while i shared mine. we had moments where we'd cry together. she was different than a friend, more like a mother whose world knowledge exceeded mine. she guided me and helped me feel a little bit okay with where i am in my grief.

she confessed that she was still grieving. after 21 years, she still had "bad days." she said she had never been to a grief counselor, that it wasn't done back in her day. you simply were expected to accept graciously, friends would rally around you for a few weeks, but then you were left to your own counsel. she said that my lack of "fence neighbors" as she called them, and being left on my own so much made us kindred spirits.

she gave me a suggestion. at 5 years out she said she had still be "suffering," as she put it; much like i have been writing of lately. she said she sat down and wrote her own obituary. she put in it all the things she had "died" of. she said it helped her clarify what her fears were, her worries, and her sorrows so she could address them individually.

so i wrote my own obituary. she liked mine and said it was poetic.

i think i am ready to share this with anyone who might still be out there reading.

Beach Bunny, little known artist and bear builder, died last night from complications of losing her soul mate, her Dragon. she was 53 years old. soft-spoken and gentle of nature, Bunny had never been the type to go down without a struggle, but in the final days of her life, she revealed an unknown side of her psyche. this hidden, fragile side to her personality came to light as a result of blow after blow from life; medical, physical, emotional, and spiritual. sadly, it all became too much for her.

her awareness of the futility of her attempts at finding any kind of a safe life after the death of her husband forced her to her knees, awash in tears. she had fought all her life against those who would crush her. all through the years of her life she had secretly clung to the belief that sometimes life saves the best until last. when she met her Dragon, all her dreams had come true, but, alas, not for long.

her time with her Dragon was all too short and he was taken from her even as she struggled to save him. in her mind, she had failed him. in her heart, she had let him die because she was too stupid to save him. this was a belief she held even all through the final moments of her death. with the heavy blows that continued to hit her after his death, her mind, heart, and spirit continued to suffer. a few days ago, one last blow came and she realized that she may never achieve any kind of peaceful co-existence with life. she was knocked to her knees, then knocked further down into the dirt. she did not have the reserves of strength to rise again. she lay there and, ultimately, the worry and stress took her last breath as its own.

as expected, no one was present to witness the passing of this gentle little spirit.

Bunny will be missed by only a very few. it is not believed that anyone will even remark upon the passing of this little soul who lived in obscurity, who tried hard to continue on in the absence of her beloved Dragon. one has to wonder what the purpose of so quiet a life; what reason there was for her being born? she suffered at the hands of so many who were supposed to love her: mother, father, brother, first husband.... violence, deaths that left unresolved issues, unanswered questions, cruelty, lies, abuse, abandonment; it created more weight that settle upon Bunny's soft little shoulders. it was a whole world of weight that finally became more than she could carry.

she staggered under the burden, fell, and could not rise. there is always a last straw, a final blow, and it came to Bunny. there was no one nearby to help her.

what epitaph can we put on little Bunny's grave? "the deeper the sorrow, the less tongue it hath." Beach Bunny has stopped talking now.

these are all things i am going to be addressing as my life continues.

i went to Mass Sunday morning. the Priest was waiting for me. he pulled me aside and told me that the widow i spent my Sunday mornings with died Saturday night of a sudden heart attack ~ just like my Dragon.

i am going to her funeral Mass tomorrow.

what obituary would i write for her?

a small, elderly woman who lived a small life made an enormous impact on a shabby little widow Bunny. two widows who had a brief time to spend together, got the chance to not be so lonely. this elderly widow took Bunny under her wing and showed her that it was alright to grieve. she told Bunny that pain is not something to be fought against, but to let its current carry you however far it will. it is something to be learned from. this elderly widow told Bunny that "grief is a grace if one looks deep into it." this great and tiny widow embraced another widow and shared her wisdom. the pew where two widows passed a Sunday morning Mass together will now seat one solitary widow again. the memory of the other widow will be greatly honored. the loss of her is staggering and will be felt forever.

Sunday before last, as we parted in the parking lot of the restaurant down from our Church, she reached out to me and held my hands together in each one of hers and said to me: "you have made me so happy. you are such a giving person. you have listened to me as no one has since my husband died. and you let me hold your hands. no one touches widows, not enough anyway. i like that you let me hold your hands. i have been so very lonely for company and God gave me you. thank you. Bless you. see you next, Sunday."

i wish to say: no, Bless you. and God keep you close. may you already be in your husband's arms again never to part. thank you for the brief time i got to have with you. i will remember all you taught me. i will look for you in the sunlight when it shines through the stained glass windows.